


A Bit of Rough

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bruises, Come Swallowing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hotel Sex, Intercrural Sex, Love Bites, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Rough Sex, Scratching, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark wakes up between Kian and Nicky after a rough night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bit of Rough

**Author's Note:**

> All my longfics are giving me the shits, so I took two hours out to write something pointless and pornographic. Because balance is important.

“Who did that to you?”

Mark breathes out a sigh, nuzzling into the soft muscle of Nicky's throat. Fingers tease slowly up his jaw.

“You know who did that to me,” he murmurs. Nicky shivers against him. It's cool here, in the hotel room, the early morning sun drifting dust motes across the bed. A hand glides down his back, soothes over his arse, then slides back up again.

“And this one?” Kian's fingers linger on the bruise on his hip, tender under strong fingers. “How about that?”

“Mm...” Mark moans softly, hips canting forward, spine arching back, wanting both of them at once. Kian's pleased laugh brushes the back of his neck while Nicky ducks down and kisses over the hickey marring his shoulder.

“Were we too rough with you, love?” Kian asks. Mark shakes his head. “We'll have to try harder next time.”

“Bit sore,” he admits. Nicky gives the hickey a sympathetic lick.

“Poor thing.” His voice rumbles over Mark's collarbone, hoarse and hot. Mark shudders, hears Kian laugh behind him, his hips starting a slow roll that's all friction and intent, rutting into Mark's arse. He's sore there too. Sore everywhere, from the fingermark bruises dotted down his thigh, to the love bites on his shoulders. He aches.

“Let me have you,” Kian urges.

Fuck, he aches.

“Be nice to the boy,” Nicky laughs. “He just woke up. He's had a big night.”

“No, I...” Oh god, he is going to be _really_ sore later. Loves it, though. Doesn't want to admit how much, though they both know. Getting to wriggle in his seat later and feel that throbbing sting, feel the bruises thrum against the brush of his clothes. See either set of blue eyes turn to watch him, darkening when they realise the cause. “I want to.”

“He wants to,” Kian echoes. A hand trails down his thigh, back up, pushing all the hair the wrong way and making Mark shudder, his skin prickling. Teeth nip at his ear. “You want it,” he coaxes, and the whine Mark makes in response is soft and pleading. “Little slut, aren't you?”

“Wouldn't go that far,” Nicky argues benignly. “Still...” His fingers caress Mark's jaw, thumb drifting over his lips, pressing down and dragging the bottom one to the side. Dark eyes blink slowly at him as he watches, eyelashes fluttering a little when he feels another thumb stroke over his entrance. “Oh, look at you,” Nicky breathes. “You gorgeous thing.” His hands drift down Mark's chest, tweak over his nipples until he's keening into the harsh kisses starting to bite at the corners of his mouth.

Nicky twists, tugs gently, and Mark is moaning, tilting into it as two fingers push into his arse. He hears Kian moan something encouraging, and when Nicky reaches around to help the stretch is almost excruciating, four fingers scissoring and playing him open while Kian grunts kisses into the back of his neck and Nicky starts to grind slowly into him, arousal swelling against his stomach.

“So tight,” Nicky hisses. Mark whimpers, pushes back, and when Kian starts to make slow circles around the furled muscles Nicky slides deep, crooking and rubbing, his fingers finding the spot effortlessly, pressure right where Mark needs it.

“Oh,” he gasps, legs shifting, head tilting back. Nicky makes a soft moan of approval. “Oh...” His legs shift again. Too much and not enough at the same time. Kian bites his shoulder with a growl. “Oh, I can't...” His legs won't stop moving. He's not sure if he's trying to fight it off or get it deeper but the pressure is excruciating. So far from an orgasm it hurts, and if this goes on he might go mad. Needs friction. Something. Kian's hand is stroking his hip while he shudders and writhes and he _can't_.

“Breathe,” Kian suggests. It's not very helpful. “God, that's beautiful, Marky.” Mark groans, feeling the trickle of a flush spreading down his chest. This is pathetic, wanton like this, whimpering and arching all over the bed. Nicky's fingers sink deeper, press harder, the little circles shrinking until they're his whole world.

He lets out a sound that should be embarrassing. Hears Nicky mutter 'oh fuck yes'.

“I...” He sobs. “I can't...”

“Shh...” Nicky kisses him. He sobs again, trying to rut into Nicky, push back into Kian. Hands are holding his cheeks, pulling him open while Nicky holds the rhythm. He thinks he might be getting turned inside out and doesn't know if that's a bad thing. Kian is breathing hard against his ear, and when one hand lets go he realises he can hear the sound of Kian stroking himself, feel it nudging the back of his thigh, the breaths speeding up.

He might be pleading. He doesn't care.

“Bring him off,” Kian mutters. Nicky's next kiss has a smirk in it. “Oh fuck, do it Nico. Make him come.”

“I can't,” Mark gasps again. Though he thinks he can, maybe. Thinks it's going to hurt like hell when he does, his balls aching and not enough pressure to send him over the edge. Needs a hand on him, urging the way, though if this keeps up he's going to overflow like a soda bottle with too much fizz.

“You can,” Nicky whispers. Kian presses closer, cock nudging through Mark's thighs, holding his hips still even though his whole body wants to flail into it. Sticky slick trickles into the space, and Kian's groan in his ear is bliss.

“You can,” Kian pants. “Oh fuck, yes you can.”

“I...” His eyes squeeze shut against the lights of it, roaring through him like an oncoming train. Fingers cradle his balls, the other hand pulling him open still and Nicky's fingers moving, moving, moving. “I...” He feels Nicky's other hand slide down his stomach. Yes. Yes. Oh fuck, god, oh, yes...

The fingers close, squeeze, and that's it, croaking out a scream while the pressure crests, diving off the top and all the way down, eyes squeezed shut and Kian still throbbing against him while fingers don't stop. Don't stop until he's all the way through and floating down the other side, his orgasm roaring in his ears while he collapses against Nicky, crushing them together just because he needs to hang on to something.

The fingers pull out. He whimpers his relief just as Kian pushes in. Thick and blunt and filling him so suddenly he yelps, arching into Nicky, trembling thigh hitching up to trap a slender one, holding him in tight. Kian is moving. Sawing against him, and he feels swollen and still too sensitive, throbbing somewhere deep inside himself as Kian takes up the pressure on the spot Nicky's abandoned. Smoother, sliding pressure that soothes rather than torments, coaxing his arousal back to life way before he thinks he should have the energy or capacity for it.

A hand slaps his hip. He understands. Up on his knees, trembling, bent over Nicky while Kian pushes back in, sinks so deep it pushes all the breath from Mark's lungs, and Nicky is slithering back, a hand fisted in his hair while Mark looks up, a thousand pleas caught in his throat.

“That's it,” Nicky mutters. “Fuck.” Mark takes stock. On all fours while Kian slams in hard, picking up the pace. Just how they both like it, his fingernails gouging down Mark's back and leaving trails of electric fire, red welts he'll see later in the mirror. The other hand grabs his hip, yanks it back, palms over his arse and administers a hard slap that makes him cry out, Nicky biting his lip to stifle a moan.

The hand in his hair pulls him back. God, vulnerable and exposed, his throat wrenching taut while Nicky licks his lips, eyes hard steel.

“Give it to him, Kian,” he croaks. “He wants it.”

Mark whimpers acquiescence. Nicky caresses his cheek, guides him down, and when Mark nuzzles into the leaking erection he feels hungry, powerful. Laps it up with his tongue and ducks forward to guide it in, hands still fisting in the sheets while he presses as low as he can go, Nicky coming up to meet him halfway.

Hard again. God, he can't be hard again. He is, though. Feels like he could come a hundred times, until he's a puddle of dust, spent and taken on the bed, no use for anything else. Especially if it was like this. Rough and hammering and Kian's balls slapping his arse every time, the panting breaths from the man behind him speeding up. But not there yet. Holding out. Fingers tightening on his hip and leaving more bruises, another hand pressing down on the small of his back to tilt the angle and oh fucking _Christ_ that's...

“Yes,” Kian growls. Nicky's cock butts the back of Mark's throat. Suffocation and fingers on his jaw to guide him like Mark is just a tool for Nicky to use, a hot, wet, drooling sheath. But when he looks up blue eyes are watching him with hard, intent reverence and a tongue is darting out to wet pink lips, and when Nicky's chest hitches and his eyes roll back Mark knows this doesn't mean nothing. Not to any of them.

“Oh god,” Nicky croaks. “Oh god, I'm...” His hips jerk. Still. Jerk again. Circling the edge while Mark tries to keep the rhythm, the sheets cutting into his palms while he tries to hang on, the jagged lines of Kian's scratches shivering and hot down his spine while his balls tighten.

“Mark,” Kian mutters. “God, Marky.”

He feels the flood, hears the cry. Eyes closed and Kian slamming suddenly harder, grinding into his arse and sheathed all the way, milking himself into Mark and Nicky's sudden croaking yelp announces his own climax. Salty and slick and he's too fixed to pull away. Too ruined and hard and shivering while he swallows.

Swallows again, sucking down when Nicky goes to pull away. A soft, tormented laugh giggles above him. When he looks up, Nicky's eyes are dancing and sated, his skin spackled with a lazy flush.

Kian pulls out. He whimpers, opens his mouth to ask if someone could please, for the love of god, take care of him, but they're already moving him, flipping him onto his back while Nicky holds him and Kian engulfs him tenderly, drawing him out.

He comes with a grateful moan, tilting deeper into Kian's throat. Gets a gentle kiss as Kian pulls away and then slides up, kissing him gently, the taste of Nicky still thick on Mark's tongue.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes, feels fingers drift carefully down his jaw. “Bit sore.”

“Poor thing,” Nicky murmurs. “Told you to go easy on the boy.”

“He loves it.” Kian kisses his cheek.

“He does,” Nicky agrees. Mark wriggles happily, wondering if they'll actually ask his opinion on the matter. “He's going to get a backrub later, I think. And whatever he wants for lunch.”

“Steak sandwich,” Mark mumbles. “Extra chips.”

“Whatever you want,” Kian chuckles. “I think he's going to sleep.”

“I think he is.” Fingers drift gently through his hair. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

Mark is going to reply, but he's too far gone. Instead he lets them manoeuvre him down onto the sheets, Nicky spooned to his back and Kian holding him in. Hands link on his hip and he smiles, snuggling down.

“Love you, babe,” Kian says. Mark mumbles it back.

Then he's gone, the thrum of aching muscles and beat of tender bruises almost a lullaby.

 


End file.
